


In the Mood for Love

by Traeger



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, no avatar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4124991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traeger/pseuds/Traeger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asami and Korra are neighbours in the same apartment block. They're married, but not to each other.</p><p>Based on the 2000 film of the same name. Told from Asami's POV. </p><p>Warning: Not fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Mood for Love

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a weird something, because I kept thinking about the movie after I watched it.

_How does a feeling start?_

_How do you think it all began?_

_Does it matter?_

**..........................................**

It is raining. You duck through narrow streets into the basement. Narook’s. It’s always the same, the routine. The trek to and fro the stall almost mechanical now. The monotone is an old, familiar acquaintance. The pot of takeaway noodles sits firmly secured in your hand. They are good noodles, great even. But it’s not something you care about. The taste has since turned bland in the number of times you have tasted it. It’s a stark reminder of the reality you’re living in. Still, it’s part of _the_ routine, so you do it.

As you carefully make your way up the steep uneven steps, you meet the all-too familiar face of your neighbour coming down. She nods at you in silent greeting, and your head twitches, almost imperceptibly, in similar response. As always, you wonder if she knows the truth. The real reason behind why this noodle stall is a shared haunt of the both of you, even if you have not once find yourself there at the same time with her. It has and will always mean only one thing, and there is never joy in that.

Your wife is out on another one of her ‘business trips’ in the Fire Nation. You must know her husband is not home either. Probably working overtime on a case at the station again. The case will get cracked at the same time when your wife’s business run is over. Again. Except it is never over. The cycle tires you, and you feel your heart break all over again. You try going to the movers on your own when you’re not working on your designs. Alone, as always. Sometimes you wonder, as you sit there, surrounded by strangers, whether you're just desperate for a superficial sense of companionship.

But _she_ calls you out for coffee one day, something she has never done before in all those months of polite greetings and innocuous borrowing of the popular series of bending noirs. She calls you out for coffee on a lonely evening, and that is strange, as you've never exchanged more than the necessary neighbourly pleasantries before. Maybe that is where everything began.

_Can I ask you a question? That cigarette case you have. Where did you get it from?_

_Why?_

_I’m thinking of getting one for Mako._ A pause.

_You’re so good to your husband._

_Ah, you know spouses. It’s his birthday and I haven’t gotten him anything yet._

_I'd have to ask Rei._

_Why?_

_She’s the one who gave it to me as a present on one of her trips. You can only find these designs in the Fire Nation. It's a collector's item; they aren’t for sale here in the city._

_Maybe if she takes a trip there again, perhaps you could ask her to buy one so that Mako can have one like it?_

_Wouldn’t it be odd that both of us would have the same case? Especially if we’re neighbours?_

_I guess you’re right._

 

You realise this is a test. She does know. 

_-_

_Can I also ask you a question? Where did you get the pendant you're wearing from?_

_This? My husband bought it for me after he got back from one of his detective training programmes abroad. Mako buys all my pendants for me. You can’t find them here in the city._

_I see. What a coincidence._

There is a long drawn-out pause before you continue. _Actually…my wife has one just like it. She said her sister gave it to her, so she wears it every day._

_And my husband has a cigarette case just like yours._

_I know. I’ve seen it._

_What are you getting at?_

_..._

_..._

_I thought I was the only one who knew._

_..._

_How do you think it began?_

**.....................................**

And so it starts, trying to make sense of a hopeless situation. A situation that tethers the both of you together. There is a strange sense of camaraderie in the plight you both find yourselves in. It isn't comforting, but at least it is something, even if her presence is a constant reminder of your failed marriage. You try to reenact scenes of how both your spouses started seeing each other behind your back and her’s. It becomes the new routine, if slightly perverse on hindsight. _Does it even matter how it began?_ You go to dinners together. You are eating what Mako likes and she’s eating what Rei likes. What Mako likes is far too spicy for your taste, but both of you dutifully fulfil the roles left in the void of their mutual absence. You come to realise she’s a sweet-talker, just like Rei.

You both share a taxi home. You think about that brief moment when she tried reaching for your hand, but you pull away. _We won’t be like them,_ you say. She nods. Years later, you wonder if that nod meant agreement, or just acknowledgement. The taxi stops a few blocks away. She steps out first.

**....................................**

_How does a feeling start?_

_How do you think it all began?_

_Does it matter?_

**....................................**

The two of you start spending more time together, but you have to be careful. The landlord is starting to gossip; he attempts to pry by wondering about your recent late nights with subtle prodding. You blame it on your workload, but you get the message. She tells you she wants to try her hand at writing a serialised bending noir and asks you to help her. You agree. She writes while you contribute ideas. You even bring the boomerang, the latest one you personally designed, to one of your sessions to explain how it works. She incorporates it in her story. One night, you are forced to spend the night when your landlord's wife has one of her Pai Sho gambling sessions that ran into the next morning. You sleep on the bed while she snores away, slumped in a chair. When the coast is finally clear, you practically run to your room to escape prying eyes. You forget about the boomerang. She rents a motel room downtown the next time so you won't be seen together in the apartment. Nothing more ever happens, but you're judged all the same.

You fall sick once, and you mention a craving for pig-chicken soup to your landlord. She overhears, and outside your door you find a steaming pot of it.

 _There is a place at the Northern Air Temple,_ she tells you one day over dumplings, _where people who had secrets would go to. Secrets they couldn’t tell anyone. So they would carve a hole in the big tree that stands in the courtyard and tell their secrets. And then they would fill the hole with mud._

 _How poor are they have they no confidants to carry that burden,_ you reply simply. She smiles at your misquote. You think of the crooked way she grins that reaches all the way to her eyes.

 

**......................................**

Her debut novel is a success and you help her write another. Your stares turn longer. It catches you off guard when you realise you cannot pinpoint the start of your developing feelings. Neither can she. You are sure she feels it too, a whole world of unsaid things in the vast chasms of silence. There is still an ache, but it feels different now. You feel it when you part under the cover of darkness. 

You try confronting your spouse, but you have practice runs first, by her. After a few tries, you cannot do it. You can never do it. You still love your spouse even as you’re falling for another. Each time ends up with you in tears, even if it is just a rehearsal. You can't even bring yourself to express the bottled up rage and hurt. The pain of reality is too much to bear. There is a difference between knowledge and the confirmation of it. You break down and sob into her shoulder while she holds you and strokes your back comfortingly. There is warmth in her arms and you realise this is the first time she actually touches you. You find yourself wishing you have the courage to make the first move, or that she does. A part of you know you will hate yourself after, and you hold back.

_I’m going back to the Southern Water Tribe._

_Why?_

_Because you’ll never leave your wife. And we can never be like them._

Her blue eyes burn into your memory as her fingers entwine with yours. She gives it a gentle squeeze and you find your hand doing the same. You glance at your clasped hands. The moment is over, far too soon. You stare at her for a long while. So beautiful, so caring. You lower your gaze, giving her the chance to come closer. She doesn’t.

She offers you to join her but you refuse. At the last minute, a sudden recklessness seize you but as you rush down the dock to catch her, the ship leaves.

A year passes by. One of your contracts require you to be in the South. You pick the lock of her apartment and let yourself in. No one is there. You pick up the phone to call her. She answers, her voice overwhelms your chest with so many conflicting emotions. It is too much. You cannot bring yourself to answer her and let the silence fill the air until she hangs up. You look around her apartment and your eyes fall on the boomerang carefully placed beside her pillow. You turn it over in your hands, and kiss it tenderly. You don’t notice the mark your lipstick leaves.

Another year passes by, then more. As you gaze up at the mighty tree on the mountain, tears roll down your cheeks as you pour your entire heart out into it. You fill it up with mud. You don’t notice the recent addition just slightly below yours. You leave. You remember those vanished years, as though looking through a dusty window pane, the past something you could see, but not touch. In the years to come, your paths would cross time and time again, but you never know it is her, and she never knows it is you.

**Author's Note:**

> The whole time I was watching the film, I kept picturing Asami and Korra as the titular characters. I recommend watching the film; it's amazing but otherwise there's always Wiki: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_the_Mood_for_Love I don't think I've seen a scene where a trip to a noodle stall could pack so much sensuality.
> 
> Naturally, in real life, this is not how you deal with infidelity.
> 
> As always, comments and feedback are welcome! :)
> 
> If you're interested, check out my ongoing Red Lotus Korra fic, [Earthly Tethers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3627546/chapters/8010408) (don't worry, not as depressing)


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